The Horse's Mouth
by GeorgieInTheSky
Summary: Phil lives and works with horses, and Dan is the stuck-up teen that he wishes he didn't have to teach. Warning: content may be upsetting to some readers. (CURRENTLY BEING REWRITTEN)
1. Chapter 1

Phil carefully brushed the mare's coat, applying the right amount of pressure to effectively brush off as many stray hairs as possible. The brush felt warm in his hand and he liked the sensation, especially when coupled with the smell of the fresh hay and the distinct scent that was horse. Sidestepping to avoid the shake of her head, he chuckled as the relatively young horse let out a sneeze, patting her nose affectionately. Nostrils flaring, she nudged his shoulder softly, and in turn he rubbed her long neck, marvelling at how smooth her coat was. Opening the stall door, he peeked around, double checking that nobody else was in the stables, reaching his hand into his back pocket and offering a sugar cube. He giggled at the rough tongue licking the remaining sugar crumbs from his hand.  
"Our secret, okay girl?" He whispered, the mare grunting in response. The right corner of his mouth twisted into a half smile, a final pat his signal of a farewell. He checked that she had plenty of water, drawing the door closed once he was satisfied and bolting in so that he couldn't escape.  
"Phil? Philip? PHIL?" He heard his mother calling for him, rushing off in the general direction of her voice until he found her in the office.

Her long brown hair, a similar colour to his own before he'd dyed it black, was pulled back in a messy ponytail, as was habit for her, for it kept the hair out of her eyes and was not ruined by wearing a riding hat. Her eyes were narrowed slightly, hinting that she was stressed, her expression looking worn and tired.  
"Yeah mum?" She looked up, almost surprised by his presence, obviously too wrapped up it whatever was concerning her to hear his footsteps.  
"Valerie called in sick, there's simply no way she can take lessons today. I can't cover and none of the other girls can. You're 17 and a better rider than anyone else I know. Please cover for me?" Pleased by the compliment, it did not fool Phil into accepting straight away.  
"Who is it?" He asked, folding his arms across his chest, flicking his hair out of his eyes with a shake of his head.  
"New girl. Beginner. It will be easy." He nodded slightly. That didn't sound too bad.  
"How old?"  
"Nine." Phil shook his head frantically.  
"No. No way. Some brat that won't do what I tell her? No. I won't do it." He replied, crossing his arms tighter as a display of his displeasure at what he was being asked to do.  
"Please Phil; I need you to do this." Phil sighed and paused for a second, shrugging his shoulders in defeat.  
"Fine. But I get the inside arena. It's bloody cold out there." His mother cracked a smile, standing and pulling him into a slightly awkward half hug. "And I want to do it on horseback. Standing around is boring." His mother nodded, letting him go and returning to her paperwork.  
"Lesson is in an hour. Get changed, saddle up Jigsaw. It's a two hour lesson; the kid's parents have got more money than sense apparently." Phil chucked and shook his head slightly, almost tripping over the step on the way out and falling face first into the mud.

They lived on site, which made sense really since running a stable was a full time job, requiring daily care for the horses. He didn't mind, he was use to the smell and never really noticed it anymore, and it was undeniably beautiful, with a small stream running along the gravel path to his house, shadowed by a forest. Towards the bank, the trees were small and far apart, but the foliage became much denser the further into the forest you went so it was almost impossible to navigate. Apart from riding, it was his favourite thing to do. He spent entire days there, even as he was approaching adulthood, still finding the thrill of exploration as exhilarating as his childhood self. He rode there sometimes, taking his black mare out along trails that were non-existent until he created them, hacks that could last hours depending on when one of them became worn out (which was always him.) Smiling at these thoughts, he unlocked the faded green door to the stone cottage he lived in. It seemed almost silly really, locking the door, but although they lived in the middle of nowhere, a nosy client could easily slip in and steal any number of things if both he and his mum were absorbed in their work, which they often were. He tossed his keys onto the side, stripping off his jumper and checking the time on his phone. He still had 56 minutes until his student got here, so he decided he had time to shower.

After spending longer getting clean than he'd intended to, Phil threw on a pair of old jeans that were torn at the knees, but would do for riding, a t-shirt and the same jumper he'd left discarded in the living room earlier. He locked up, keys safely in his back pocket, making a mental note to give them to his mum so he wouldn't lose them while riding. He poked his head in the doorway of the office, coughing to catch her attention, tossing the keys her direction. He didn't stay long enough to see if she caught them, but judging from the absent sound of metal colliding with concrete he assumed she had. He jogged to the stable, noticing his mare lift her head as he passed, blowing her a kiss as he went past. He checked his phone; 31 minutes to go. He had plenty of time to saddle Jigsaw up, get his horse ready, and mentally prepare himself for his lesson.

He brushed Jigsaw's back and girth area, removing all the dirt so the horse wouldn't feel any discomfort. He positioned himself on the left side of her body as was usual, routinely checking for sores that would prevent Jigs from being able to ride. He placed the blanket on her back, sliding it into place and adjusting it so that it was even. He lifted the saddle high, gently placing it and again sliding it into place, patting the horse's neck softly. He smoothed out the blanket and buckled the girth, reaching beneath the horse so he could fasten it, tightening it slowly until it was tight enough to hold the saddle in place, checking that he hadn't fastened it too tight by standing in front of Jigsaw's head and lifting her front legs one at a time, slowly and carefully so as not to frighten her. He decided that he would rather teach from the ground as it was his first time, figuring that he would ride his own horse later. Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he took hold of her reigns and led her from the stable, closing the door to her stall behind her as he led her into the arena. He readied a block in the centre of the arena for the new girl so that she'd be able to reach the stirrups.

In the five minutes before the girl arrived he ran through everything he'd learned when he was young. He figured that he would teach her how to steer, walk, and if she could deal with that, trot. Her entrance, exactly on time, both relieved him and increased the butterflies in his stomach a hundred times over.  
"Hey there, I'm Phil; I'll be your riding instructor today. Louise, right?" He'd had the sense right at the last minute to check the registers and find out his pupil's name. She nodded shyly and looked at her feet, scuffing the toes of her boots against the sand. "Do you like horses Louise?" She looked up, shaking her head in confirmation and smiling slightly at Jigsaw. She was a good choice for the little girl before him, gentle and smaller than a lot of other horses, good with children.  
"You can call me Lou." She whispered, clearly just as nervous as Phil was. He smiled at her, gesturing to the horse with his head.  
"This is Jigsaw. She's little, just like you. Would you like to stroke her?" He said softly, so that he wouldn't scare her.  
"Can I?" Phil nodded his approval, his nerves easing at the delight that crossed her face as she reached up to stroke the mare's neck, smoothing the coarse hairs against her palm. After a stretch of time spanning maybe half a minute, the girl dropped her hand, looking up at him expectantly.  
"Ready to ride her?" Phil asked, grinning at her eager nod. "Want me to lift you, or do you want to try and get on yourself?"  
"Myself." Was the soft reply. He watched cautiously as she climbed the blocks even though they were only a few steps high, arms out so he could catch her if she fell.  
"We always get on from the left side." He explained, pointing to the stirrup near her feet. "You place your left foot in that, grab the reigns, and then swing your other leg over. Easy, right?" Lou looked unsure, so he held her waist loosely as she grasped onto the reigns far too tightly, but effectively sitting on the mare. Phil smiled at her, nodding encouragement. "That was good! Little looser on the reigns next time in case you spook her, but you did a good job."

"First off, we'll just get you used to being on a horse. Hold the reigns loosely, about where your saddle begins, and hook your pinky finger underneath so you have a good grip on them. Got it?" She nodded, doing as he asked, pleased with his praise. "You're not very talkative are you?" He asked and she shook her head, to which they both giggled. "I'll lead you round at first. If you get too uncomfortable, or you feel ready to take the next step and do it by yourself, let me know. Familiarise yourself with the letters on the wall, you see? I'll use them to tell you where to go. And let go of the reins for now so I can tell her where to go." She did as she was told, and he took the reins in his right hand, using the accustomed click to signal the horse to walk on. Jigsaw did so, Phil tugging gently every so often to lead her in the right direction. The silence was only broken by the soft thud of hooves on sand, and occasionally Phil asking if Louise was okay or ready to continue.

When the young girl was confident enough, Phil let her take the reins herself, demonstrating how to use them and checking her technique was correct before allowing her to continue. Under his careful eye, Louise led Jigsaw around the arena several times before the girl had visibly relaxed, hunching her shoulders slightly and releasing the tension. "Remember to keep your back straight, shoulders back. It's easier for her to carry you that way. Point your toes out, balls of your feet on the stirrups. That's it, just like that." Phil offered continual advice and encouragement, also becoming more relaxed as he quickly settled into the role of mentor. It was natural for him, the ability to guide others without seeming patronising or bored, balancing enthusiasm with advice to create an easy environment that both he and his student could work in. Louise was a quick learner, confident enough to try a trot. It was difficult to pick up, but she managed not to fall off the horse, clearly slightly shocked by the experience, her eyes wide. Having explained how to execute the rising trot, Phil stepped back into the middle of the arena and allowed her to practice. Her rhythm was far from perfect; he would have been surprised if it was. It was an excellent effort, especially for a beginner of her age, and he told her so, wrapping up the lesson.

He helped her to dismount, again holding her waist gently so that she wouldn't fall and injure herself, although it was unlikely. "Is anyone here to pick you up?" Phil asked, patting Jigsaw in congratulations, making a mental note to sneak her a sugar cube later. The girl nodded timidly, pointing to the viewing area where a boy of similar age to himself was standing, smiling slightly. He could see that he was tall, tanned, and dark haired, but that's all that he could make out at this distance. Not that it mattered. He wasn't interested in friends. With a gentle push to her shoulder, he gestured the young girl over to the kid he assumed was her brother, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth to signal the mare to walk on, leading her at a slow pace from the arena.

He couldn't shift the feeling of the unrelenting stare of the boy, a fly on his body that still tickled him no matter how hard he tried to ignore him. He was too shy to meet his gaze for more than a fraction of a second before his eyes flickered away, landing on something much more interesting, like say, the ground. In the short time he had to examine them, he could find no particular emotion in the eyes apart from curiousity, but the sheer beauty of those eyes, a colour that reminded him of a russet the colour of wolves, reflected with all the fire and intensity that wolves possessed, an outer ring closer to the colour of charcoal and reminding him of brandy towards the centre. The closer he got, they harder it was to shake the feeling of being watched, but as he opened the gate to let Louise through, to his relief, the feeling disappeared. He glanced up to see the slim figure crouching, taking off the girl's helmet with careful, slender fingers. For something to do while they greeted each other, exchanging smiles and laughter and jokes with that goddamn voice of his, he scratched at the back of his neck, drawing his arm away to scratch behind Jigsaw's ear gently. He risked a glimpse, seeing that the boy was now standing. He was suddenly very interested in the ground, scuffing the toes of his converse against the gravel. "If you go, uh, wait in the office, Amanda can sort you out, and yeah.." Phil hurried away, his strides longer than normal. He threw a weak smile over his shoulder as he heard Louise shout a thanks at him, turning back to try and calm his breathing.

Phil smiled to himself as he fed Jigsaw his last sugar cube, making another mental note to buy more the next time he had the chance. Her low nicker, an indication of her hello, encouraged him to scratch between her ears and reply with a soft "hey, beautiful."  
"Hey." Phil squeaked, whirling round, his distress obvious, in turn causing the mare to panic, rearing onto her hind legs. Phil dodged, narrowing his eyes at the dark haired boy, showing his discontent with his actions, but dismissing him quickly. He was not the important thing right now. He focused on relaxing his body to show Jigsaw that there was no danger, allowing her to calm down, but her blows informed him that she was still on edge. Gentle words slipped from his lips as he stroked her neck until she was calm, only then turning to fully glare at the boy that got under his skin.  
"You're not allowed in here." Phil muttered quietly, ignoring the returning sense of unease that his presence induced. The boy just shrugged, offering nothing in the way of an apology. "That was a polite way of telling you to get the fuck out." Phil kept his voice low and as unthreatening as possible as could while still conveying his message so that no more horses would be spooked.  
"Give me a good reason I should." Phil kept his anger under control, not even gritting his teeth at the attitude of this boy, clearly used to getting what he wanted without working for it.  
"You spooked Jigsaw. If I hadn't moved, I probably would've been killed. Horses are strong and violent when they're scared."  
"Jigsaw? Stupid name." Phil clenched his fingers into fists, resisting the urge to lash out and punch him in the face. Hard.  
"My dad named her."  
"So?"  
"He's dead." The expression was wiped off his face, replaced by one slightly startled and with a hint of regret, but Phil didn't buy it for a second.  
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" Phil cut him off with a shake of his head.  
"Just leave it." Phil muttered, uncurling his hands and turning away with the intention of walking out, when a hand grabbed his elbow and restricted his movement.  
"I'm Dan." He said, more gently than before.  
"Phil." He mumbled, shaking the arm off, stalking away, looking over his shoulder and stopping after a few steps, adding a slight undertone of menace to his voice. "And like I said. Get the fuck out."


	2. Chapter 2

Phil leaned on his pitchfork, exhausted from half a day of mucking out stables, shovelling horse crap and damp straw into wheelbarrows, pushing it to the manure pile, dumping it, repeating. He was still agitated from a few days ago, unable to get the arrogant boy out of his head, causing him to overfill the wheelbarrow a couple of times, only to spill it on the journey and have to clean it up a second time. Somebody else, probably Claire, had added fresh bedding after he worked, meaning that there was slightly less labour for him to go through, for which he was grateful. He decided to go take a shower, clothes sweat drenched and skin covered in dirt, which made him feel itchy and unclean, although there was something honest about it that he liked, as if he were standing up and saying "yes, I work for a living, this is the evidence, and I'm proud of it." Though, it wasn't important to anyone was it? All that mattered to the majority of people was money, not how they'd earned it, but how much they had. Who cared if you were an authentic hard worker that threw everything they had into their job, but were struggling when it came to money? Phil sighed, disgusted with the world. Who wants to live in a society where you can put a price tag on a person, rather than the true values of kindness and honesty?

Phil knew these were exactly the kind of thoughts he was supposed to push away, but they were there, nagging in the back of his head, even when he tried to scrub them clean with his hands and soap in the shower, they were a stubborn stain on his mentality. He supposed that he was slipping back, but truthfully, that was a lie. He'd never really got better in the first place. He shut off the water, the draft from the crack under the door cooling the warm droplets residing on his skin, prompting a slight shiver to escape. He wrapped a fluffy towel tightly around himself, shaking his head like dog to dry off his hair, spraying water droplets all over the room, temporary splashes against the walls that would fade quickly. He opened the door and ended up in room, collapsed on the bed, half covered by the towel, eyes fluttering closed. He was physically exhausted from the exertion he'd put himself through today, mentally exhausted from worrying over that stupid damn boy and his reclusive thoughts that questioned the values of life itself, far deeper than most people ever considered. Questioning himself, sleep took him.

Jolting awake, he sat bolt upright, the towel falling from where it covered his legs as he scrambled to find where the noise was coming from. He found it in his jeans pocket, checking the time before answering. He'd slept for an hour and a half.  
"Hello?"  
"Hi, Phil." He relaxed visibly, flopping back down onto the bed. He was terrified of answering the phone, however irrational it was, in case he was in some kind of trouble, which was stupid considering he'd never done anything against the law. Although subconsciously, he knew that wasn't the kind of trouble he was scared of.  
"What do you need?" The assumption might have seemed rude, but it was a fair bet that his mother needed something of him rather than just checking he was okay, there was always something that needed to be done. Besides, he was almost 18, more than capable of looking after himself.  
"Can you take another lesson for me? It's unscheduled, but you were so good at it last time.."  
"I don't know mum, I don't fancy any more beginners. It was kinda boring."  
"Well it's a good job that I've found you a challenge then, isn't it?"  
"I don't know.." As much as he'd enjoyed himself, he was making an extra effort to stay away from any people he didn't know, which extended to everyone outside of the employees at the stables and a few regular riders who's horses he looked after.  
"Please? I'll pay you double." Phil sighed, tempted by the offer, but his mind drifted back to his thoughts earlier. If he accepted, he was just as bad as the greed infested corporate companies working in concrete jungles that he despised so much, the tentacles of the clever business man, prying money away from unsuspecting fingers.  
"Fine. I'll do it. No extra pay. Just normal salary." Phil hung up before she had the chance to argue, sitting up and beginning to rummage through his wardrobe.

Phil had time to dress more appropriately this time, wearing his navy riding trousers rather than tattered jeans, with a white polo shirt, neglecting a waterproof jacket as the weather was warm and it looked unlikely to rain. He made sure he had his keys, patting his back pocket and repeating the same action just before he closed the door, taking them out to lock up. He convinced himself the sheen of sweat on his palms that made him drop the keys and trying to lock the door more difficult was due to nerves, because in all honesty he wasn't sure what caused it. He headed towards the office slowly, black boots almost as high as his knees making squishing sounds in the mud, the sounds that reflected the turmoil of anxieties in his stomach. He worried about the fact that he wouldn't be good enough for this lesson, that he would make a fool of himself, that his mum's reference to this student being 'a challenge' was in reference to an unbearable attitude rather than advanced skill level, and a million other thoughts in his head. He didn't look up from the rubber of his boots until he was safely inside the office. Or maybe safely wasn't the right word. Because as soon as he chucked his mother the keys, caught easily in her sure hands, he looked around to register the other presence in the room. And who else was it but Dan, the bane of his existence for the past few days. The root of his sleeplessness and irritation, and suddenly Phil was angry. Really angry. Who did he think he was, showing up with his arrogance and self-righteousness when all he had done was cause Phil stress and worry over the past few days, even while he had been absent?

Unable to deny the lesson after he had already agreed to do it, Phil led Dan to the stables in stony silence. He was annoyed at himself now, for not checking beforehand who his pupil was, ending up with the one person he could not stand, even though they had shared few words. Phil opened the door to Bandit's stall a little more aggressively than was necessary, but he needed to take his frustration out on something, and he preferred inanimate objects to hitting people, no matter how much they deserved it. Phil stepped back, allowing Dan to enter first, smoothing his expression so that this boy, whose last name was Howell according to the register, would not have the satisfaction of seeing how much he got under his skin. His attempt at politeness was greeted with a smirk, but he didn't release a growl or snarl or any sign of aggression despite how much he wanted to, simply following Dan in, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow. "You can ride?"  
"Quite well, actually." That fucking voice. Phil ignored how suddenly he was aware of how attractive Dan looked, dressed similarly to him, except he actually looked good. Hell, the boy could probably wear anything and it would still make you want to see what he looked like _without _it on.. Phil mentally shook himself, hoping his face hadn't betrayed his thoughts, and judging by Dan's expression, it hadn't. He realised he was supposed to say something, casting his mind back to what seemed like hours rather than seconds ago to recall the conversation.  
"We'll see." Phil gestured to the horse lazily with his right arm, and then at all the equipment Dan would need to saddle him up. "This is Bandit. Go ahead, saddle him up." Phil was half hoping that Dan would turn round and say he couldn't; he would enjoy the smugness in feeling superior to this kid that was messing him up so badly. But Dan said no such thing, getting to work swiftly and silently, Phil scrutinising his every move. To his dismay, he made no mistakes, although he completed the task slower than Phil would have. He found himself wondering about this boy, but decided to only pursue one line of inquiry. "How old are you?"  
"16." He was younger than he'd thought. The way he acted and the way he carried himself, he seemed about 19, and Phil was surprised to know that he was younger than him.  
"When's your birthday?"  
"21st June." Soon, then. So Phil was half a year older than him, give or take. The knowledge that somehow, he had something over Dan made him smile slightly, and when Dan asked "what about you?" Phil simply shook his head.

Since Dan was so confident in his riding abilities, they were both on horses, and Phil had decided they'd work in the field so that he could push Dan harder. He locked most of his dislike for Dan away in his head, focusing on the teaching rather than how many ways he could kill him.  
"Right Howell. You think you can ride?" He ignored Dan's confident nod, continuing with barely a pause. "Well we'll see."  
"You said that already."  
"Congratulations. You get a point for observation. Now, if you're done stating the obvious, we can move on to what we're here for. Got it?" Dan's nod was more subdued this time, and Phil resisted the urge to grin in triumph. "You seem pretty confident for a rider, and I'm not your usual teacher, so this isn't your usual lesson. We're going to race. You see the lake in the distance? That's where we're headed. Okay?"  
"Okay."  
"Right." Phil adjusted the position of his feet, leaning forward in preparation, shortening his reins to let his mare know that he was about to start, seeing Dan do the same in the corner of his eye. "3, 2, 1, GO!" He kicked hard, leaning forward, loosening the reins and leaning to the side of her neck. He couldn't help the smile that crossed his face as she broke into a gallop, rider and horse in perfect rhythm with each other. He knew exactly how to control her, and in turn she knew what he wanted often before he gave the command. The wind rushed through his hair, his fringe pushed out of his face, the warmth of the sun hitting his pale skin without it being uncomfortable, the rise and fall of his horse's steady pace, all in synchrony with each other, Phil right in the middle of it all. He closed his eyes briefly, the warmth washing over his eyelids, and he was a part of that harmony too.

A glance over his shoulder showed him what he already knew: Dan was far behind him, probably nearing half a minute. He even shot him a cocky smile, though Dan was so focused he doubted he saw it at all. No matter how good a rider he was, he wouldn't be able to beat the relationship he shared with his mare. His trust in her was so great he seldom bothered with a helmet anymore, unless the weather was bad or he was feeling tired and unfocused. He was nearing the lake, allowing himself to slow down slightly so that she wouldn't have to stop suddenly and risk him being thrown off into the water. Maybe he'd have risked it on a different day, but not today, not in front of Dan. He dismounted when he reached the muddy banks, landing elegantly on the balls of his feet, watching his mare as she splashed into the shallows of the water, cooling off. Gently, he patted her shoulder, whispering thanks and affection to her. He registered the thunder of hooves approaching but did not acknowledge the sound, keeping his gaze fixed on his horse as he stood half way up to his knees in water, petting her, resting his head against her strong neck and closing his eyes.

"You really love her don't you?" The voice made him jump, and he turned round, a pat of reassurance on the neck of his mare to guarantee that everything was okay.  
"Yeah." He said softly, looking up at her with adoring eyes and smiling slightly.  
"What's her name?" Phil blushed and looked down at his feet.  
"I stopped telling people because they thought it was stupid. So it's just me and her now."  
"I won't think it's stupid." Phil looked up from where he was making little splashes with the movements of his feet in the water to analyse the expression on Dan's face, surprised when he found it was one of honestly. Either that, or Dan was a very good actor.  
"Fas."  
"Why do people think it's stupid? It's unusual, but I don't see anything wrong with it."  
"It means 'destiny' or 'divine law' in Latin. Because she was meant to be my horse." Phil waited for the laughter, the insults, or just the rejection, but nothing came. Except after a while, Dan spoke.  
"I think that's really beautiful." Was the quiet reply, no hint of sarcasm in his voice. And for the first time, Phil didn't completely hate Dan. "It's just a shame that most of your other horses have really dumb names." And then that feeling was gone.


End file.
